All That's Left
by Centroides
Summary: This story follows Another Mission and The Challenge but can be read alone. The team has been decimated or has it?
1. Chapter 1

Thanks to Chris Johnson for creating and letting the fine Major Brent come and play in my story. He first showed up in my realm in 'Let's Be Honest'. Apparently they go back many years. He also calls Garrison, Michael. Thanks again, Chris.

Also, I am not a lawyer so some of the charges may not be authentic.

This story follows Another Mission and The Challenge though it can stand alone.

**All That's Left**

Chapter 1

The man sat slumped at the table, exhaustion evident from his lack of alertness. His arms were laid parallel on the table in front of him, hand to elbow, his neck slumped between his shoulders. Slowly his head lowered until it lay on his arms, face down.

Major Eugene Brent had just come into the Mess tent. He had paused at the door to get his bearings when he spotted a familiar figure and watched as the head sagged coming to rest on the crossed arms. The total exhaustion was a familiar sight with soldiers all around but it was out of character for this individual. The man's companion was over by the coffee urn so he moved in and sat down. Eugene sat and waited but there was no response.

"Hello Chief. It is Chief isn't it?" The head rose slowly until he was sitting upright. His face was blank for a moment then took on it's usual guarded look. He didn't speak. With a quick look about Eugene asked, "So, where is everybody?"

The look of pain was obvious. "He's gone ta get coffee."

Eugene knew the Special Forces teams were, by necessity, very close. Their success and their very lives depended on their ability to work together, to rely on each other, to look after each other. Anything less meant death. From all he had read about this team, they were like brothers, squabbling in their down time but ferociously loyal to each other and their leader in times of stress. They were a good team.

Now when asked about the others Chief only mentioned one other. Eugene had been back in the US for the past three weeks so he had not read any reports on the intelligence teams operating in Europe. There was one way to find out. "So what happened?"

Chief was not one to talk, he preferred silence. Usually he let someone else do the talking but there was no one else there. He held his tongue.

Eugene suspected the reason for the silence and played his trump card. "It's okay to tell me, my clearance is higher than Craigs." He pointed to the gold leaf and said with a smile, "If you don't tell me I'll just order him to tell me."

Chief looked at the Major then over to the man standing in line. He recognized the Major as one of the Warden's friends and knew somewhere in the back of his mind that having his friend order him to do something wouldn't be comfortable for Garrison. "Casino got hurt coupla missions back. Tore up his knee. Doc said he probably wouldn't ever walk again. They're gonna ship him to a hospital in the States. Then on the next one we got separated and Goniff got caught. He was missin' for almost two weeks. The Resistance found him by accident and brought him out. He's alive but .." he shook his head, pain evident in his eyes. "They gave him his parole and sent him home. His Mom's lookin' after him. This last mission we went on we got caught in a bombing raid. Debris from the blast caught Actor an' he was trapped in the wreckage. Skull fracture. Sent him home too. They got their parole."

"What about you? You OK?"

He nodded but didn't meet Eugene's eyes.

Was he feeling guilty that he had survived? It was not unheard of for the survivor to wish they had been the one to be injured or killed. And how was Michael handling it? The majority of his men, lost, still alive but lost to the team. That was a terrible blow. Would he get replacements? How would they fit into this unique team?

Garrison approached the table and placed a cup in front of each man. He then turned to retrace his steps.

"Michael, wait." Eugene jumped to his feet. "Sit. I'll get it." By the time he returned Chief's head was again on his arms and Craig did not appear to be aware. He waited a moment for his presence to register then asked, "You okay? Chief told me what happened."

Garrison exhaled slowly through his nose then nodded. He looked beyond tired. "Just gotta get some sleep then we go out again."

"What? You're in no state to go out. Unless you mean twenty four hours of sleep then you've gotta tell them that you can't. I'll tell 'm."

"Eugene. It's just an in and out. The guy knows me, trusts me. I'm the only one that can. I got two weeks when I get back."

"And Chief?" he asked nodding in his direction.

Craig looked over at the exhausted man and whispered, "Not going."

Eugene was glad that the man would have a chance to rest, he obviously needed it but that meant Craig was going alone. He raised an eyebrow questioning the wisdom. His friend refused to make eye contact. His mind was made up.

"Chief? Let's go. Time for bed, Chief." There was no reaction until the officer nudged the table. The head rose, eyes bleary then focused as they looked around. The two men rose and walked out towards the area set aside for sleeping.

Eugene wondered how he could find out where Michael was going and how he could go with him. A single operator was not a rarity but with at least a backup, there was a better chance of survival. He would give them a few minutes to get clear then he would go see the Colonel.

It was a good idea and might even have worked except he was forced to make a decision. The Colonel had agreed to let Eugene go along. He did not like it but he had no grounds to refuse. The Major had grabbed his bag from his bed and was approaching the jeep where Garrison was stowing his gear. It was a ten minute run to the airfield. As he neared he heard an unusual sound and turned to look. An MP was holding the flap to the tent open. Chief came out followed by two more MP's guns at the ready. As he cleared the flap the prisoner turned and attacked the nearest man. He went down but the second man moved into position. Punches were thrown. Major Brent was aware that the jeep was moving off. He did not want Garrison going alone and could have called out but the gunshot silenced him. Chief, still struggling, stumbled then tried to run. The third guard tackled him and he went down hard.

Major Brent strode over to the tangled pile. "What's going on here?"

"We have orders to arrest him on charges of murder and desertion."

"And when was this crime committed?"

"I'm sorry sir, I don't have the details. Just my orders, Sir." He saluted sharply and bent down to help lift the unconscious man.

"Brigadier General Harramond's Office sent the orders," said Colonel Larsons. "The man in question was charged with being absent without leave, murder and now resisting arrest and assault. He is to be shackled and returned the base to face the charges. He's facing some serious time."

"I would like to see the prisoner, Sir."

"You're a lawyer now?"

"No, Sir, but I do know the man." The Colonel nodded and the Major headed out.

Lacking suitable holding facilities, Chief had been handcuffed and put in the back of a truck. A guard was stationed at the rear. Brent stepped up on the bumper and stepped inside. Covered as it was it made it dim inside but he could see the man lying on the floor.

"Chief?" There was no response. He tried again, "Chief?" He turned to the tailgate and asked, "Has he been seen by a medic?"

"Not yet. One was called but hasn't turned up yet," came the slightly muffled reply from the guard.

"Get'm now."

"I can't leave."

"That's an order."

The guard muttered a yes sir and left. Eugene put his hand on Chiefs shoulder then his fingers on his throat. He was alive but unresponsive. The fact that he was able to touch him this way proved there was something wrong.

"What've you got? I'm due in surgery in two minutes," asked the weary young doctor. Brent explained about the fight and the fall. The Doctor examined his patient then declared that he was going to be all right. "He's sleeping. Probably exhausted just like three quarters of the men here."

"Why can't I wake him? You sure it's not a head injury? He fell hard."

"Look, I can understand you caring about your man but I couldn't find anything wrong with him. Unlike the men lined up in Pre-Op; men with blood and guts exposed."

"Thanks Doctor," said Eugene as he turned back to the prone figure. He had not moved. He had to do something. He moved to the tailgate and asked the guard to get some water and a cloth. He saw the look he was given and under the circumstances he ignored it. When the man returned he moved back to Chief's side and after calling his name and nudging him to no avail, he placed to cool cloth on his fore head. That got a reaction.

Chief opened his eyes then blinked. It was obvious that he was confused. Eugene called his name and Chief sat up rather faster than he should have. In his attempt to prevent himself from falling over he tried to put his hands out to brace himself. The cuffed hands seemed to confuse then horrify him. He looked around then centred on Eugene accusingly. "Get'm off."

"I can't. I don't have the key."

"Get Garrison, better still, take me to him." He started to rise.

"Chief, you've been arrested."

"What? For what? I haven't done anything. You gotta get me outta here. I gotta find Garrison before he leaves."

"He's already gone. Now, tell.."

"No," he breathed out in disbelief. "He went alone. How could you let'm go alone. He hasn't got a chance. I need to be there. How long ago did he leave?" Chief headed for Eugene and the back of the truck.

"Chief, you've been arrested. You aren't going anywhere."

"I have to," said the Indian with a determination that spoke volumes.

"Why?"

"I have to. That's all. Either you help me or get outta the way." Eugene saw the determination. He did not fear for his safety but knew the determination was more than loyalty. The word arrest did not seem to bother the man as much as the separation from his leader.

"Tell me why."

"Because if you don't I'll have to kill you."

"That will add murder to the charges."

"Don't care. He dies it won't matter. Now, what will it be?"

Eugene saw he was not getting anywhere with that line of questioning so he switched. "Why is it so important for you to get to Garrison?"

"I can't tell you."

"If you want my help then give me something."

"Can't, least, not here."

The Major raised his eyebrow and tipped his head toward the tailgate indicating the guard.

"No one," said Chief quietly.

"If I get you out of here, no funny business. You promise not to take off?"

"No. I'm gone with or without your help."

"You are handcuffed, unarmed and guarded by an armed soldier who is not afraid to shoot. You need my help but I need to know why I should."

Chief weighed his options. He knew where he had to go but the odds did not look good. If he was alone he would try it but could he really hurt Garrison's friend? He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "I won't take off but I can't talk here."

"All right." He strode to the back and pulled the flap aside. "I am going to take the prisoner to the latrine. We'll be right back."

That worked until the two men had disembarked and were about to leave when they saw that the guard was starting to follow.

Seeing the look on Eugene's face he said, "Orders."

"I need to speak in private. How good a shot are you? If we stand over by the wall there, could you shoot to kill?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The two men walked. "Now what's this about."

Chief glanced over his shoulder and took a few more steps before stopping, making sure his back was to the guard. He stared the Major in the eye, weighing how much to tell him. Could he trust him? And how far?

"Someone's out to kill'm." He would tell him only as much as he needed to get out of here. "He wanted to go in alone ta draw'm out. I convinced the … well, I convinced his boss ta let me go as his back up. I was supposed to go with 'm. That's why I gotta get outta here."

"Who's orders?"

"I can't say."

"Why?"

"Look, I was told, top secret, tell no one. I can't ."

"Have you worked with this person before?"

"If I answer then you'll know. You'll just look up who we worked for or not."

"Granted. Does Garrison trust this person?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll see what I can do."

"Just get me a knife."

"No. No killing."

The look on Chief's face said that was not what he intended. "I need to cut the tarp."

"I'll get one and bring it with the meal." He turned to go back.

"While I'm here… " and he nodded to the Latrine.

Eugene smiled and the two headed in that direction.

He was as good as his word. Half an hour later Major Brent brought a tray of food to the prisoner and then stood talking to the guard for a few minutes. It wasn't until an hour later when the guard was changed and the off duty guard offered to return the tray that they found the truck empty. Chief was gone. Minutes later a small plane left the airfield heading south. The lone passenger bailed out over coastal France and the plane returned. Actor and Garrison were not the only ones who could pull a con.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chief landed narrowly missing the house. He grabbed his chute and pulled it down just before it caught on the porch roof. The low cloud cover had hidden their approach but the wind from the approaching storm had played havoc with the flight and then with the landing. For now he had no idea where he was or more importantly, where Garrison was. In the fading light he would have to find a road sign or some other way to figure out where he was. He knew where Garrison was to meet the contact so that would be his destination, but he had to know where he was first.

He had looked for a vehicle to steal but there was nothing here, the barn was empty. He walked until he found a vehicle then headed for the coast. Traffic was light so he was able to make good time. By the time he knew his location he was just under a mile from his destination.

The city of Lorient was on the west coast of France. It was here where the contact was to take place. He could not speak the language but he had memorized the city map and knew where to find the train station.

Once in place he watched and waited. His biggest fear was that the meet had gone down all ready and Garrison had been killed or captured. Next to that would be if the meet had taken place, information exchanged and his leader was on his way home safe and sound. That would be good but then how would he know? They would think he had deserted.

That thought brought him to the charges Brent had mentioned. What were they? Being AWOL and murder? Or something like that. Where had they come from? He had never deserted; taken off a few times, like in New York that time, but he had always come back. Most of the times he figured Garrison never knew about it but when he had he had never done anything about it. Even in New York when all the others had known about it, no one said anything. Garrison had just given him that look then carried on. Why now?

It had to be someone else that had squealed. But who? And why?

The pieces fell into place. Their suspicions had been correct. Garrison was the target and now was their best chance; now when Garrison was alone, deep behind enemy lines. Damn, he thought, I have to find out if he's okay.

Not for the first time he berated himself on how inadequate he was for this job. At home he could stand around and to people he was invisible or they thought he was stupid. They talked over him and he heard. Here where he couldn't understand the language he **was** stupid. Actor would just stroll in and within minutes know all the local gossip including what they needed to know. And the best part was that they wouldn't even know they had told him. At one time Chief had thought that he would like to continue working with the Warden even after the war. He liked working with him. He treated him good and he was good at what he had to do. But that dream had withered. Garrison might ask Actor to continue on but not him. He didn't have what Garrison needed. Oh well, he might not live to see the end anyway so it didn't matter. It did matter but he couldn't let that thought see the light .

There, that was the man in the picture, Garrison's contact. He looked all right, not scared. Their information was that the man had information but was scared to send it. Quickly he scanned the few people in the street. No sign of Garrison. That meant he was early or late. He moved to follow the contact. If he was early then he would lead him to Garrison. If he was late then there was nothing he could do.

Chief followed, staying well behind. Up ahead a group of men clustered loosely at the corner. He would have to detour around them. He could not have put it into words but he knew they were trouble. He had stayed on the opposite side of the street from his quarry but now feigning interest in a store front he made to cross the street.

He had read the trouble ahead but not the scope. A car was coming so he waited. Chief watched as the car drew alongside and stopped. The driver was wearing a midnight blue suit which was not a problem until he saw the insignia on his shoulders and the fact the wearer of that insignia was looking right at him and speaking in an accusing tone. Whatever he wanted, Chief could not give him. He gave a slight shake of his head and touched his ears, the universal indication of deafness. It usually worked but not this time. The men from the corner drew around him, he was trapped with nowhere to run.

A gun barrel nudged his ribs so he raised his hands and did his best to looked frightened. This was not a new situation but he was playing the innocent. Someone grabbed his shoulder and pushed him around forcing him to turn in the direction he had come from. Unable to control himself he started, hands fisted to fight the touch but pulled back when another gun appeared in his face. Being shot would not help. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

The three men, one on each side and one behind, escorted him toward the harbour as the car continued on its way. He tried walking slowly to give himself time to think but the business end of a weapon was threatening to bruise his kidneys. There was nothing he could do.

Another pair of eyes watched the procession and was dismayed at the sight. Garrison had arrived by boat, coming ashore with the crew of a fishing boat. He had scouted out the location last night and was now on his way to the meeting place when he had seen the men approaching. He too, had a feeling about these men and had stepped into a café meaning to stay until they passed then continue on to the meet. Then he recognized the central figure and the formation. Chief was a prisoner but his escort was not SS, Gestapo or even regular soldiers though they were military. That left press gang. It was possible he was about to be drafted into the German Navy. This required immediate action. Once on a ship or a sub there was no way to get to him. Once the vessel left, he was unreachable. He stepped out onto the street a moment after they passed; the meet would have to wait.

Garrison followed, watching for a chance. Up ahead there was an intersection with few pedestrians around. In this part of town there were few breaks between the buildings so this was the best he could hope for. He whistled a fair representation of the call signal they used then as the group paused at the curb he struck the first blow using a chop to the neck that was part of the Fairbairn Sykes Fighting System. Before the sailor had hit the ground the man on Chief's right was grabbed around the neck and yanked back. Chief, hearing the commotion swung with a roundhouse blow to the midsection of the remaining sailor. He folded and Chief's knee flipped him back. The two fighters fled.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Garrison. They had run a block then hid, walked casually, detoured, climbed a fence or two and finally ducked into an empty shed. He figured they were safe, at least for now.

"Watching your back, like we planned," he shot back.

"It wasn't necessary. Besides you were tired."

"No more'n you." The two stood in the dim light glaring at each other.

"So when's the meet?" asked Chief as Garrison checked his watch.

"We're late." Garrison checked to make sure the way was clear then they left. When they reached the place they were concerned. There was no one there but then they were an hour and a half late. Garrison was not pleased and it showed. The best chance for success was on the first try. The plan had allowed for delays. If one did not show then they were to try the next day but this also meant more time for either of the agents to be discovered. Garrison could not help thinking that if Chief had stayed where he was then he would have made to meet and been on his way back. In his heart he knew it was unfair to blame the Indian. The man was loyal and as stubborn as …, as he was. It was the exhaustion coming through.

Chief was also coming down hard on himself. He should have been more careful. If he had stayed back on the sidewalk by the building then maybe the driver would not have noticed him and stopped. Maybe he should have fought them when they came for him. There were lots of things he could have done differently then the Warden wouldn't have had to rescue him. It rankled that he had had to be rescued. By now he shouldn't have to be rescued. What kind of idiot had to be rescued like that.

The two men retraced their steps. They would lay low until dark then find a place for the night. Tomorrow would be another day, another chance.

The meet was for eighteen thirty so they had the day to wait. Garrison knew the man's address but he was not there, he had moved. That was unusual but not unheard of. Garrison told his neighbour that he had come to payback money he owed and the helpful old gentleman obligingly told them where he had moved. It was across the city but they walked carefully being on the lookout for press gangs. The new residence was in a better neighbourhood but still no one was home. They waited.

Luck was with them when a nosey neighbour told them that if they were waiting for him, that they were in for a long wait. He was seen walking away with a German soldier. Had he been arrested, Garrison had asked to which he got the sarcastic reply, why else would he go with the Boche. Asked where they would take him the man just shrugged and turned away.

Where would they take him? Was there a headquarters nearby? They would have to go looking. It was too big a city to search on foot but random driving would take time and increase their chances of getting caught. They had to ask. Not being a con man, it took Garrison time to find out what they needed. It was almost noon before they found the Chateau de Kernevel which the Nazi leaders had commandeered. Now all they had to do was get inside without Actor, their consummate SS man or Goniff the second story man and bring the man out, all without getting caught.

The two men circled the building looking for a way in. The front was guarded by two very alert soldiers with a view of the whole front of the building. Down the side there were windows but nothing was accessible. The back presented no possibilities until they were almost past. They both heard the growl of a loaded truck and turned to watch. A delivery was about to be made and whatever it was would have to be unloaded and carried. They knew that if the soldiers could find someone else to do the work then they would. Here was their chance.

Once inside Garrison was able to grab the crate of French wine and ask if he could take it to the wine cellar. Once it was delivered he 'took a wrong turn' and ended up down a carpeted hall. The sound of voices filtered out from behind a closed door. He listened.

"_It will soon be time to take you to the station,_" said a gruff voice.

_You still think he will show_?" asked a smoother, more refined voice.

"_Yes. He might have been delayed. The plan allowed for that. Besides they trust you." _There was a smile in gruff voice.

"_And you are sure it will be the hinterhaltig_?"

There was a chuckle before he spoke. "_He will come_."

"_He had better be alone_." There was a hint of fear.

"_Do not worry. He has been isolated. It was actually easy. Mein Englisch ohr tells me his men have had some injuries and the last one was detained. He is alone_."

"_They could just send another team. What will I do then?" _he asked was nervously_._

"_He will come. If not then you walk away and we catch them too._"

"Y_ou had better be right_." The sound of footsteps warned Garrison to move. Making his way back to the kitchen he was the last to leave. A quick look and he saw Chief off to the side. They left.

"So, it's a trap."

"That's the way it looks."

"So, we just leave?" asked Chief skeptically. He knew Garrison would not just walk away. Garrison never just walked away leaving something unfinished.

"I wanna know who the 'English ear' is."

"Any ideas?"

"Not yet. We have to get him to tell …"

"If we knew how he contacts 'm."

"There might be something in the Chateau," suggested Garrison, thinking out loud.

"Yeah," said Chief, "lots of German soldiers."

"Sailors."

"Huh?" said Chief, not understanding the apparent non sequester.

"They're sailors," he said matter-of-factly. "Navy."

"Still Germans," he said, understanding dawning, "and we'll be just as dead."

Garrison smiled in agreement, an idea forming. "We need a way to tap into his phone."

"I seen Casino do it. I know how."

"Good. Let's go."

They returned to the Chateau to see where they could do the tap then they obtained the required equipment in the usual way.

Holding the phone right up to his lips he whispered as fearfully as he could in German, "Admiral, I've just heard from your agent in England. She has been found out. They know. She wants instructions on how to get out. What do I say?"

"Who is this?"

"Calais," hissed Garrison. "The Americans are here. I cannot talk. Your agent will call back in ten minutes. What do I tell her?"

"It's a ruse. My agent is Frederick Adler, not a woman. Tell her nothing. No. Tell her to go see the Butcher on Leadenhall. Then contact him and let him know to terminate the woman who comes to him but to be careful. Have you got that?"

"Yes, sir. I will do it immediately. Danke." He disconnected the line and waited. Two minutes later the Admirals line came alive. Garrison listened in. It was a short call. They waited for another hour before they disconnected their equipment and packed up.

Garrison sat waiting for the signal from a fishing boat captain who would take them out to meet a Motor Launch. The breeze had stiffened as it swung around and was now bringing the smell of the ocean, fish and sea weed. They had spent a cold night waiting but dawn would be here in a few hours as would the Captain, he hoped. He pulled his jacket collar up and watched as Chief sank back into the shadows.

Chief. He had been angry at him for coming when he was supposed to stay in England. He had yelled at him for it too. He was angry at him for getting caught especially since it had caused him to miss the meet.

The meet. That was another thing. It had been a set up. He had almost walked into a cleverly laid trap. Would he have been able to save himself? Chief had saved him from being captured, saved him by fouling up. He shook his head. At least it had all worked out. He was still free, though it was never good to think that until you were on home ground. And he had the name of the mole. Mission accomplished.

He heard the whistle before he saw the dark figure striding down toward the dock. He fell into step and said, "Guten morgen für die fischerei." The two agents boarded with the rest of the crew and they cast off.

All went well until they transferred to the Motor Launch. Once on board, the Captain, one Angus McFarley, called them to the bridge where he made the announcement. "You, son, are under arrest. I am to clap you in irons and hold you in the brig but seeing as we have no irons and no brig, I will ask, if I leave you loose, will you cause me trouble?"

Chief knew it was coming. He just had not expected it so soon. "I won't cause no trouble."

Garrison was surprised. "What's the charges?" as he looked from the Captain to Chief.

"I don't know the charges, just that I am to arrest the lad."

"Thank you for that. I'll take responsibility for him," said Garrison. They went below.

"What's this about? What're the charges?" asked Garrison attempting to remain calm.

"I'm not sure. I wasn't payin' attention."

"What do you mean you weren't paying attention? What did you do?" His calm was slipping.

"Warden, I remember bein' in the mess with you and then that Major Brent friend of yours. I remember that. The next thing I know I'm cuffed in the back of a truck. I don't know how I got there. I don't know what happened." He sounded seriously confused.

Garrison watched his eyes. Interesting how he could bald-faced lie to Casino, he had watched him do it but when he confronted him Chief always folded. He would look away. Right now Chief was looking him straight in the eye.

Chief was cuffed when they docked and two MP's marched him away to the stockade. Garrison was tired. He had not had enough sleep in, …,in,… well, it seem like forever and with this mess he had come home to, he was not going to get any anytime soon. First stop was his commanding officer. He would have to debrief then hopefully get to the bottom of the charges. If only he could get a little sleep.

"The charges are murder, desertion, resisting arrest, assault, escaping custody …" said Colonel Barker, looking up from the file in front of him. "Boys in serious trouble. I have orders to ship him back to the States immediately." The Colonel was an older man, his face lined with worry and the stress of command.

"Sir, I know him," said Garrison. Unfortunately he knew him well enough to know he was capable of all these things. "There has to be more to this than meets the eye. Request permission to investigate."

"I have orders to send you to Aberdeen. Some sort of training, outdoor survival I think." He sounded sceptical. "They're around here somewhere." He casually looked around without purpose. "Must have gotten misplaced. In the meantime get some rest." He closed and pushed the fiIe across his desk toward his subordinate. "Come back tomorrow ten hundred hours. I will have to have found your orders by then."

"Thank you, sir." Garrison saluted then picked up the file.

Garrison sat on the bunk beside Chief, the file open on his knee. They were both seeking answers. The mission was complete; the mole had been exposed and now would be dealt with. Garrison had been debriefed then come over to the stockade to see to Chief.

"Sir," announced the guard. "I have to move the prisoner."

Garrison stood. "Where to?" He would have to find a way to delay the move if he was going to get a chance to find some answers. He feared he was moving off the base. He was a civilian.

"Orders are to an office down the hall. His lawyer's there."

Garrison's first though Actor and he pictured him there. No, Actor was not here and not about to be posing as a lawyer. Who was it? Without asking permission he followed Chief out and down the hall. The lawyer was standing behind the desk, the file open in front of him.

"Hello, Chief, Lieutenant. Have a seat." Chief sat and his commanding officer stood leaning against the wall by the door. Major Eugene Brent smiled, attempting to put the two men at ease. This tactic failed completely on the Indian; his face remained guarded but at least the worry on Garrison's face eased a bit but was replaced by suspicion. Brent also knew his friend would not blow his cover.

"Because of the number of charges we may be able to have some of them dismissed but for arguments sake I need some information." No one spoke so he continued. "Resisting arrest."

"When was this? I ain't resisted in, .. a long time," said Chief.

The Major paused. He could not have forgotten, could he? "Just before you left. It was at the base. The MP's came to arrest you and you attacked them."

"No, I never. When we got off the Torpedo Launch they were there, just standing waiting an' I went with them. I never resisted. They're lyin'."

"I don't mean when you got back. I mean before you left." He watched the very real confusion on the accused's face.

"I don't remember resisting."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"I was in the tent with Lieutenant Garrison and you were there. Then, …" his voice tapered off and his eyes lost their focus. "I was tired. I musta fell asleep but the next I remember was wakin' up in the back of the truck." He looked confused, worried. "I was handcuffed. I don't know how I got there," he added pleading.

"You don't remember getting up and walking to the tent, or the MP's waking you?"

"No," he breathed out as he shook his head gently. He was starting to look worried. Interesting, thought Brent, that not being able to remember was more worrisome than a charge of murder.

Garrison moved up closer to the table. "Did he hit his head during the resist? That could explain the memory loss. Chief looked from the Lieutenant to the Major daring to hope.

Brent looked at his friend. That was the man he knew, looking for every possibility to protect those he cared about. This was one of the things that that had earned his respect.

I can't be sure. It happened so fast. I do remember that after they put him in the truck I got in but couldn't wake him." He turned to look at Chief. "You were out cold. I called the doctor and her checked and said you were asleep." His face brightened and he looked to the other officer. His face also registered the 'ah ha' moment.

Chief was scared by the apparent hole in his memory. He was trying to think back and to tie it to what Brent was saying. Suddenly there was silence and he watched the look that was shared by the two men. That scared him even more because he couldn't figure it out.

"Has it happened before?" asked the Major sounding hopeful.

"Has what happened? Whatta ya talkin' about?"

"Sleep walking, Chief, and" he looked to Brent, "yes it has."

"No, I never," he said forcefully. "I don't sleepwalk. Only crazy people do that."

"Chief," said Garrison as he squatted down beside his wheelman. "Do you remember after the mission to Holland, when we found our contact had been …" The look on Chief's face told him he did. "When we got home, later that night, I found you in my office." Chief looked away, embarrassed, unwilling to even think about it. "You said you didn't remember how you got there. You remember that?"

"I just, .. wasn't payin' attention. I didn't sleepwalk. I'm…"

"Chief," said Brent, "You don't have to be crazy to sleepwalk. My brother's not crazy. He's as sane as you are, or as sane as Garrison here."

"But,"

"You were exhausted," continued Brent. "The MP's came in and your body registered what to do but it neglected to tell your brain. You were still asleep. Even the doctor said you were asleep."

Chief looked to his leader for confirmation that this was acceptable. Could he have slept through a fight with …. No. No one could sleep through a fight. Yet Garrison, who he trusted, seemed to think that that was what had happened. Could he? He was tired. Hell, he was tired now. A tiny voice in his head suggested that he was sleeping right now. He squashed that thought.

"Assault, desertion."

"I never deserted. That I'm sure of." Well, there was more than one time he took off but he always returned. Without looking, his awareness turned to Garrison waiting for him to say something about New York. There was no sound. Garrison did not consider that desertion.

"Brent, I know I can't vouch for Chief every minute of the day or night but with being away or under guard on our base, when could he have possible committed these crimes. When does it say they happened?"

"Funny, it says 'on or about' and gives a three day period."

"Is that usual?" asked Garrison. "Wait a minute. Who signed the charges?"

"Let's see," said Brent as he scanned then flipped the pages.

Chief waited, a tightening around his eyes betraying his worry. Garrison waited and waited before asking, "What is it?"

"I need to check this."

"What?" asked the other two in unison.

"Give me an hour," he said as he gathered up the papers and put the file under his arm. "Guard," he said loudly as he opened the door.

"I don't know," replied Garrison to the unspoken question that was clearly written on Chief's face. "I do know that Eugene is honest, fair, and our best chance at the truth."

"I'm sorry, sir. I have to take the prisoner back," interrupted the guard.

"I'll see what I can find out," said Garrison as the guard stood waiting.

"Thanks, Wa…, ah Lieutenant."

Chief was returned to his cell where he had nothing to do but think and pace the four steps front to back. Sleep walking. He was sleepwalking? But he had been told that crazy people did that. That was why nuthouses were locked up especially at night so the loonies didn't escape. Was it true that normal people did it too?

Was it true that he did it? There was that time that he dreamed he was back in the residential school and had …. No, that was all part of the dream. In the dream he had walked the halls and then … then after he had walked back. It was all part of the dream. He didn't walk around in his sleep. No. The Major was wrong. He might be the Warden's friend an' all but he was wrong. There had to be another explanation. He felt his head. He had to have hit his head or that screw had hit him. That was why he didn't remember.

Craig gathered his gear and headed for the Officers Club. He had a phone call to make before he returned to see what Eugene had found.

Craig waited. The evening meal was being served and with the commotion he was told to wait. Finally the trays were collected and the noise slowly subsided but still no Brent. Where had he gone. Was the delay a sign that they were in serious trouble. What did he mean, they? Chief was the one in trouble. Murder, that was serious. They might beat the AWOL by reasoning he was not in the army and so could not be charged with an Army offence, but murder. The man had fit so well into the team. He did not want to lose him.

He paced the parking lot as he watched for his friend to return. The guard's shift changed with all the ensuing vehicles and foot traffic but no Brent. Who could he call?

If he was this worried, how was Chief doing? He moved inside and requested to see his man. The prisoners, now fed, were a quieter lot. The guard took him to Chief's cell and opened the door for him. The occupant had watched him come down the aisle, saw the grim look on his face and had remained sitting on the bunk. All they could do was wait.

Chief drove the jeep down the curving drive and parked in front of the former stables. The two men climbed out and headed for the back entrance. Once inside they were greeted with, "It's about time you got back, I'm bloody starving".

"I take it all went well," inquired Actor apparently completely recovered from his reported skull fracture.

"Yes," said Garrison. "One mole uncovered and one traitor out of business."

"And one covert team back in business, or will be once Casino is recovered. That gives us, what, about a month off, eh, Warden?" asked Goniff with a smile. He appeared to have achieved a miraculous recovery from his ordeal.

"You know, Goniff, you just had the easiest mission, you'll ever have. All you had to do was stay out of sight while the story was spread. Now it's back to business as usual."

"But we've got no safe cracker. We can't go without Casino."

"Intelligence has plans for a few bridges in Northern Italy."

"But we got no blastin' expert either. We don't know nothin' about blowin' up bridges, do we fellas. They'll 'ave to get someone else."

"And what about you, Chief?" asked Actor. "I assume Major Brent cleared that all up. You are no longer wanted for murder?"

"Yeah. The mole bought the rest of the story bout you guys but wanted to make sure the Warden was unprotected. Almost worked too, cept for the Major."

Actor turned back to Garrison and asked, "Any ramifications from his aiding and abetting?"

The officer smiled. "Seeing as the charges were dismissed, there was no reason to pursue."

The men trooped into the kitchen where their housekeeper was about to dish up their evening meal. Peace reigned once again and would until those dreaded words, 'Gather round, we have a mission'.


	3. Chapter 3

It seems I left a few loose ends that a reader was good enough to bring to my attention. This should tie them up. I think…

All That's Left

Epilogue

"Major Brent? You have a visitor. He does not have an appointment but he says you know him. He says his name is Chief." Major Eugene Brent's secretary was in her thirties but looked younger. Quiet, efficient and well organized; she was an officer's dream secretary.

"Yes," he said as he rose. "Send him in." He moved to come around to the front of his desk.

"You do have a meeting in fifteen with the General," she reminded him.

"Yes, thank you."

"Coffee?"

"Send him in and I'll ask."

"Yes, Sir." She opened the door and motioned to someone in the anteroom.

Chief was nervous but he covered it well. This was not something he was used to doing or was good at but he knew it was what was right in Garrison's world and he wanted to belong to that world. Garrison. Garrison was the stepping stone to a better life, a life that had been denied to him.

As an orphaned half-breed Indian child, he had been taken in by a white couple but never truly accepted. When his 'mother' died in a derailment he was adopted by an Apache woman. This had led to a stint in an Indian Residential school. From there it was a short step to prison. In his short life he had never been accepted except when he was with the Apache woman, Goyen. He was always the outsider, the one who did not belong, the one ostracized and picked on. Garrison had changed that.

When they first got together Garrison had treated him as everybody else did. It didn't take long to notice that he treated Actor better. But then Actor treated Garrison better too. Then it was Goniff. They had returned late from a mission. The only one to get any sleep on the way back was the Englishman so the others had slept in, even Garrison. When they got up Goniff had made breakfast for everyone and Garrison had thanked him.

Then it was his turn. They had tried to break a man out of a German prison but he had been caught while trying to disable the alarm system. Garrison had come back for him and saved him from certain death. He had remembered Garrison thanking Goniff for going out of his way for the others and knew he had to thank Garrison. It had been hard to acknowledge that he needed someone or that he couldn't have saved himself. In his world you didn't, you didn't need, you didn't accept, you took. He was not sure what he expected Garrison to do with his apology but he was pleasantly surprised when Garrison brushed it off. He did not gloat, though he knew he wouldn't, and he didn't look as if he was saving it up for later. Garrison had accepted the offer and thus accepted him. That was the start and he had worked to build on that. The more he worked with the officer the more he was accepted. The lesson was learned.

He walked into the Major's office. It was nowhere near as nice as Garrison's but then this was an Army base not some rich person's house. He nodded and said, "Thank you, ma'am," as he passed the secretary. She had been courteous but cool when he had arrived. Now she smiled.

"Come on in, Chief. Have a seat," said Brent as he approached and held out his hand. "Coffee?"

Chief shook the offered hand and said, "No thanks. I'll only be a minute." The secretary heard the comment and stepped out closing the door softly.

"I take it all went well? Does he know you are here?" Brent asked with a smile as Chief sat in the chair and Brent perched on the desk corner.

"No, he don't know, but I got a twenty-four hour pass says I kin be here."

Brent smiled. "Wouldn't want you to be charged with desertion."

"Yeah," he said as he smiled. Then he turned serious as he said, "I just come by to thank you for helping me. If you hadn't," he paused for a heartbeat, "well, I'd be in prison and the Lieutenant would be dead. I owe you for both our lives and I want you to know I take that real serious. If there's anything I can do … just let me know an' I'll do it."

Brent caught the 'I owe you for **both** our lives' but let it go. He knew that if Garrison died that there would be no replacement, just dispersal of the rest of the team and they knew where they would be dispersed to. He could also see how serious Chief was about the repayment of a debt.

"Michael is a fellow officer and a friend but that's not the only reason. My rank gives me the opportunity to read the reports he files, our friendship allows us to talk about things that don't go in the reports." He smiled and saw the flicker of concern cross Chief's face. "You're gaining a reputation." Again the look of concern but this one remained. "Garrison's Gorillas may be unorthodox and mayhem follows you between missions but you have a healthy success rate. That is what the Brass understands."

"There's one other thing." Chief paused looking unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to stand and move but there was no window and nowhere to go. "I wanna apologize for lyin' to ya." He looked down at the hands that rested tensely in his lap so he missed the look of confusion on Brent's face. He raised his head and locked eyes with the Major. "I lied to ya in the mess Tent." He saw the look and realized he would have to explain. "I lied when I said the others were injured." He took a deep breath to continue. "I had to. I didn't want to, you bein' the Warden's friend an' all. We had to make everybody think he was alone."

Eugene took pity on the man, he looked so upset. "It's all right, Chief. I found out about the mole and realized what was going on. You were very convincing if that is any consolation. You were on the job, working a con and it worked." He was pleased to see the look of relief on Chief's face. "Besides, I could've been the mole," he added with a smile.

Chief looked shocked but he recovered enough to ask, "An' you got the guy, the mole?"

"Yes, Frederick Adler. He came from old money but over the decades their finances had deteriorated. When he was approached by a German consortium asking him to hold some money for them until the war was over, he saw a solution to his problem, figuring the Germans would lose and not be in a position to reclaim the money. As soon as the money was gone he was contacted again with an order to return the money or they would expose him."

"They blackmailed 'm."

"Yes. He agreed to rat out one of the teams."

"So before he was a traitor, he's a sucker."

"Essentially, yes."

"How'd they know he was gonna finger us?"

"Someone was making inquiries about the teams. Adler was not privy to that information so he had to ask."

"Why were we picked? Was it cause..." he started suspiciously.

"No. You were not picked because you're cons. You were selected because you were already one man down legitimately. It was fairly easy to make the others 'disappear'."

"What about my bein' arrested? He do that too?"

"No, that was a matter of bad timing. The arrest warrant was announced to appease the mole and confirm that Garrison was coming alone. You were supposed to have left before it could be acted upon. Once the identity of the mole was confirmed and he was arrested, the warrant was to have been withdrawn and all charges dropped. Sometimes the bureaucracy moves too slowly."

"Yeah, works that way in prison too," said Chief softly. Brent figured he spoke from experience. Chief stood and held out his hand. Brent did likewise and the men shook hands again. "Thanks for all your help, Major. We're lucky to have you on our side. Thanks again." He turned to leave.

"You're welcome, Chief. Look after him for me."

Chief turned back to face him and said, "I always do." He opened the door and left.

Brent returned to his chair behind his desk. When his friend had told him about his team, he had been skeptical. Convicts taking orders from the Army. A long shot for sure but it was working at least it was working with these men. Michael had convinced them to trust and to follow him, but then he was a natural leader. If he did not survive, it would not be from lack of trying by his team. He opened the drawer and removed the file he had been working on.

"Sir, you have a call from a Lieutenant Garrison," interrupted his secretary.

"Put him through." Eugene lifted the telephone handset and placed the receiver to his ear. "Hello, Michael. How are you?"

"Eugene, I'm fine, how about you. Staying out of trouble?"

"Just barely. So how's Scotland this time of year?" Eugene smiled. It would be cold and wet, perfect for survival training.

"I haven't left yet. They owed me some time. We leave in two days."

"We?"

"Yeah, Chief's going too."

Brent laughed. Garrison's tone did not bode well for somebody. "Does he know?"

"Not yet he doesn't. Anyway, I just called to thank you for your help. I'm afraid my rank wouldn't have gotten me anywhere at least not as fast as you did. We all appreciate your help, especially Chief. I know he, and I'm sure the others do too, have had nightmares of going back to prison."

Major Brent said nothing of his previous visitor. If he had said nothing to Garrison then neither would he. "You're welcome. You've helped me in the past. Besides that's what friends do, help each other. Besides, the big G, might hear of my incredible powers of deduction and give me a promotion."

"Or he sees you aiding and abetting criminals and give you a demotion." The grin on Michael's face came through loud and clear in his voice.

Eugene laughed. "You could be right. Captain Eugene Brent at your service."

"No, it doesn't have the same ring to it. Stay out of trouble; I might need your services again, someday."

His secretary poked her head in the door. That was the signal to go. "Okay, Michael. Give me a call the next time you're in town."

"Will do. Good bye, Major, and thanks again."

"Bye." Brent replaced the receiver and stood. Grabbing his hat he headed for the door.


End file.
